A Bad Day For Stonefield PI
by Red Witch
Summary: A private detective makes the biggest mistake of his life when he decides to investigate the Figgis Agency.


**A private eye is holding the disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters. I don't even own the idea for the first part of the fic. I got inspired by the Simpsons couch opening gag. The one with Bob's Burgers in it. Then I had a brain storm. What would happen if some poor unsuspecting detective decided to investigate the Figgis Agency? That would be…**

 **A Bad Day For Stonefield PI **

"How the hell do you lose an _ocelot?_ " Pam snapped as the Figgis Agency headed into work one morning. " **Again?"**

"I don't know," Cheryl shrugged. "I put him someplace. I know that."

"Why did we have to all go for breakfast again?" Lana asked.

"I thought it would be a good team building exercise before we went to work," Krieger said.

"You just wanted pancakes," Ray said. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"Here's what I thought wasn't bad," Cyril said. "I thought a place called The Fuzzy Burrito couldn't make a good breakfast buffet. I was pleasantly surprised."

"Too bad Mallory couldn't make it," Lana sighed.

"That's what made it so pleasant," Cyril quipped.

"Zing!" Ray chimed.

"Was it because of Archer or a hangover?" Cheryl asked.

"A bit of both actually," Lana sighed. She then noticed the door to the Figgis Agency was open. "Krieger did you forget to lock up?"

"I don't think so," Krieger blinked. "The door is open."

"Brilliant deduction Hercule Porno," Pam quipped.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" A loud male scream was heard from inside the building.

"What was **that?** " Cyril gasped.

"Somebody screaming duh!" Cheryl said.

"Is that Mallory?" Lana blinked. "Did you guys have another party in the bullpen and forget to clean it up again?"

"That explains the screaming," Cyril groaned.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"That **can't** be Ms. Archer," Ray frowned. "The voice is deeper, frightened and lacks that touch of evil she has."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"You're right," Pam said. "Well then who the hell is in there?"

"Maybe it's a burglar?" Cyril gasped in panic.

"What dumb ass burglar would steal from **us**?" Pam snapped.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"Maybe it's a client?" Cheryl suggested.

"Oh, dear God!" Cyril gasped. "What if we did leave the door open?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"If it's a client why is he **screaming**?" Ray asked.

"Come on idiots!" Lana took out her gun from her purse. "There's only one way to answer this!"

"Leave and come back later?" Krieger suggested with a gulp. "And hope the person left a note?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"Come on!" Lana snapped as she rushed in.

"Do we **have to?"** Cyril groaned as the others followed.

They ran inside and up the stairs to see a strange sight. An older man wearing a ratty old trench coat and a hat was being mauled by Babou. "AAAHHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

"Oh right," Cheryl said. " **That's** where I left Babou. I forgot."

"You'd forget your own damn head if it wasn't attached to your scrawny neck," Pam said.

"AAAHH! AAAHH!" The man screamed as Milton and Piggly came out of the next room. Milton threw toast while Piggly took a bite out of the man's ankle.

"AAAAHHH!"

"And you said having a flesh-eating radioactive pig was a bad thing," Krieger said smugly to Cyril.

"Well it is to this guy," Cyril admitted.

"AAAAHH! GET AWAY! GET OFF!" The man screamed as he was attacked on all fronts by ocelot, pig and toaster.

"Who the hell is this asshole?" Krieger blinked.

"He's not a friend of yours?" Ray asked.

"Nope," Krieger shook his head. "Any of you guys know him?"

"AAAAHHH!"

"No," Pam said.

"No," Ray said.

"Nooope," Lana said.

Cheryl paused. "I want to say yes. But no. I don't know him."

"SQUEEEE!"

"AAAAAHH! THEY'RE EATING ME ALIVE! AAAHHH!"

"Who the hell is he?" Lana paused as she put her gun back in her purse.

"Hey look!" Cheryl noticed something and picked it off the floor. "I found something!"

"A lock picking tool," Krieger recognized it. "It's not one of mine. Does this belong to anyone? Anyone lose a lock picking tool?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"Anyone?" Krieger asked.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"It's not one of mine," Ray admitted.

"It's not mine," Lana said.

"Maybe it's this guy's?" Cheryl pointed. "Excuse me, is this yours?"

"YES! I ADMIT IT! I BROKE IN HERE!" The man screamed as he was being mauled. "HELP ME! HELP ME!"

"It's this guy's," Cheryl said.

"I **knew** I locked up before I left!" Krieger said. "Phew! That makes me feel a lot better."

"I'M GLAD SOMEBODY DOES!" The man screamed. "AAAAAAHHH!"

"So, this guy **is** a burglar?" Cheryl asked. "Well that solves the mystery."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"That was bothering me for a bit," Krieger said. "Especially since I was sure I locked the front door. But then I wasn't sure."

"I know how you feel," Ray said. "You get that little bug of doubt in your brain. That is annoying!"

"NOT AS MUCH AS A GLOWING PIG AND A CAT TRYING TO EAT YOU ALIVE!" The man shouted. "OWW! OH, GOD I THINK I LOST A FINGER!"

"What dumb ass burglar is so hard up he has to try and rob **us?"** Pam asked.

"Besides us of course," Ray remarked. "I mean we do steal from our own company."

"Yeah but we've put in the time," Cheryl said.

"She's right," Krieger said. "We've **earned** the right to take supplies and money from the agency. Nobody else has."

"OH GOD SOMEBODY MAKE THE PAIN STOP! AAAHHH!"

"Is **that** where my stamps keep going?" Cyril asked.

"AAAHHHHH! GOD WHEN DOES THE PAIN STOP? AAAHHH!"

"Guys you know stamps are expensive!" Cyril snapped.

"Duh!" Cheryl said. "That's why we take them!"

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" The man somehow threw Babou and Piggly off and started running around the office. Well more like hobbling very fast.

"Should we do something?" Cyril asked. "Like call the police?"

"AAAHHHH!" The man screamed as the animals and toaster chased him.

"Nah," Krieger waved. "I think Babou, Piggly and Milton have this under control."

"MEOWWW!" Something darted out from a shelf and landed on the man's head.

"Oh, Schnuckiputzi is back," Krieger said. "Wunderbar!"

"AAAAHHHH!" The man screamed as he tried to get the cyborg cat off him.

"I forgot you had that cat," Cheryl blinked. "I thought it was part of a coma dream or something."

"Oh, like I've never made half robot animals?" Krieger snorted. "What do you think I practiced on before I started making human cyborgs?"

"AAAAAHHH!" The man threw off the cyborg cat and ran into another room. Then ran out when he was being chased by another rectangular robot.

"I forgot we had a mail robot," Pam said.

"Me too," Ray admitted.

"AAAAHHH!" The man screamed as robots and animals alike chased him around the bullpen.

"When did we get the mail robot again?" Cheryl asked.

"A few weeks ago," Pam said. "When that office closed next door."

"Oh right," Cheryl nodded. "It's Milton's girlfriend."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"He has been roaming the streets a lot less since she got here," Ray admitted.

"Has anyone come up with a name for her yet?" Cheryl asked.

"What makes you think it's a **her**?" Ray asked. "It's a robot. It may not self-identify the way we do!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"He has a point," Krieger nodded. "It's kind of wrong to impose our ideas of gender on something else. At least until we know it's preference."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"We should come up with a contest to name the robot," Cheryl said. "That would be fun!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"Should we at least stop **this?"** Pam asked. "He's making a mess all over the place."

"AAAAAHHHH!"

"MEOW!"

"SQUEEEEEE!"

"RARRRRR!"

TOAST!

"Do you want to get in the middle of **that?"** Ray asked.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"Nooope," Lana said.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

"Still he is making a mess," Krieger said.

"I'm not cleaning **that** up," Ray said.

"Some people are so inconsiderate," Cheryl clicked her tongue.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" The man finally broke away and stopped at the stairs leading to the door. "Call them off! You people are crazy! Call them…"

WHAM!

Everyone was stunned as Milton sped up and knocked the man hard from behind, causing him to fall down the stairs. "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

CRUNCH!

"Oooh," Everyone winced as one.

"That was **not** a good fall," Ray winced.

"Should his neck be that angle?" Cheryl pointed.

"No, it should not," Krieger said.

"Oh for…" Lana groaned. "Krieger, Cheryl! Wrangle your menagerie while I check this out."

"Okay you all had your fun!" Krieger ordered his animals. "Go back down to the lab! Go on!" Most of the animals and robots left the room. "I'll feed you later!"

"Good kitty," Cheryl said as she picked up the ocelot. "Ooh, you got a finger to chew on!"

"Looks like they already had a morning snack," Pam remarked. "Well?"

"He's dead," Lana said looking him over.

"Why did we get a building with stairs again?" Cheryl asked.

"Well that's just great!" Cyril groaned. "Just what we need! A dead body in the office."

"Technically it's in the hallway **to** the office," Pam said. "I want to say the foyer but…It's not large enough to be a foyer."

"Technically you could call it a foyer," Cyril said. "But it's just not as big as a regular foyer. It is rather narrow."

"So, like a mini-foyer?" Pam asked.

"Fine we have a dead body in our mini-foyer," Cyril groaned. "I hate when days start out like this."

"I'm pretty sure the dead guy isn't exactly thrilled about it either," Krieger pointed out.

"Does he have any identification?" Ray asked as Lana checked the body.

"His name was John Stonefield," Lana looked at his wallet. "And he was a private detective!"

"He was a **detective**?" Ray did a double take. "What the hell was he doing **here?** "

"Maybe he thought there was a job opening?" Cheryl asked. "And this is part of the interview process."

"I don't think so," Krieger said. "Ooh! Something is leaking out of his ears!"

"I think that's his brains," Pam remarked.

"Why would a private eye be investigating **us?** " Lana asked.

" _Seriously?"_ Ray looked at her.

"Let me rephrase the question," Lana sighed. "What reason did this **particular** private eye have for investigating us?"

"Because let's face it," Pam nodded. "There are a **lot** of them."

"Maybe somebody hired him to investigate us?" Ray suggested.

"Who would do a background check on **us?** " Cyril asked. "And even as I asked the question I realized the answer. Anyone with a brain cell and an ounce of self-preservation."

"Or somebody who already **knows** us," Lana added. "And wants to get even. Which admittedly is a pretty long list."

"Okay first we gotta figure out what to do with the body," Pam pointed. "Then we break into his office and find out."

Lana added. "We have his address on his card. All we gotta do is look it up on a GPS and go there."

"Good plan," Cyril said.

"I can stuff him in my freezer for now," Krieger said.

"Do **not** turn him into a cyborg!" Cyril snapped. "Seriously Krieger…"

"Yeah one cyborg around here is **enough** ," Cheryl pointed. "No offense Ray."

"None taken," Ray looked at the body. "He's not even my type."

"Ray, Pam come with me," Lana said.

"Phrasing," Pam quipped. "On my tits, whaaaaat?"

"You say that way too much," Ray said. "We all agreed just stick with phrasing."

"That was never a consensus and you know it," Pam pointed out.

"Just come on!" Lana groaned.

"I wanna come too!" Cheryl said as she threw Babou to the floor. The ocelot ran off. "Can I come please?"

"Can she come?" Pam asked. "Please?"

"Fine," Lana sighed. "Why not?"

"Do you want the full list or just the top five?" Ray snickered.

"Rarrrrr!"

"Damn it, Cheryl!" Cyril snapped. "Your damn ocelot just pissed on the floor again!"

"So?" Cheryl asked. "What do you want **me** to do about it?"

"That is a rather ridiculous question," Pam said as they left. "Ciao for now!"

"Don't get caught!" Cyril snapped. "Or I'm selling that ocelot to the zoo!"

"That's not as much a threat as you think it is," Cheryl called back.

"Great," Cyril looked around. "And they left us to do all the dirty work! Just great!"

"Like this is the **first time** you've had to clean up blood and piss!" Krieger told Cyril.

Realization hit Cyril. "Oh, dear God, it's **not!** "

"Right?" Krieger grinned. "I'll go get the bleach."

"I'll go find another reason to live," Cyril moaned.

Later that afternoon at the Figgis Agency…

"I don't know what you're complaining about Cyril," Krieger said as he and Cyril sat in the bullpen drinking scotch. "The place needed a good cleaning anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"I'd love to kill some people around here with a round of bullets," Cyril grumbled as he took a drink.

"We're back," Ray said as the others returned. He was carrying a briefcase.

"That was fun!" Cheryl giggled.

"Maybe for you, Fire- **Fry,** " Ray gave Cheryl a look.

"Hey this place looks great," Pam looked around. "You'd never know a mauling took place."

"Another mauling **almost** took place," Krieger admitted as he showed his bandaged hand. "Ever try to take a finger from an ocelot? I wouldn't recommend it."

"Did you find Stonefield's office?" Cyril asked.

"Oh, we found his office," Ray said. "Slash home. It's a trailer on the outskirts of town. Or at least it **was.** "

"Get this," Lana said. "Nobody hired this guy. According to his notes he was looking for a case. Apparently, we have a reputation."

"Do I want to **know** anymore?" Cyril groaned.

"Just the part where he decided to see if he could get any dirt on us and try to either blackmail us or put us out of business," Pam said. "Seriously, who writes **that** on their schedule?"

"We obviously erased that from his computer," Ray said. "As well as any fingerprints or DNA we left behind."

"How did you do that?" Krieger asked.

"How do you **think**?" Pam pointed.

Cut to Stonefield's trailer…

Which of course was up in flames. Several firefighters were putting it out.

Cut back to the Figgis Agency.

"You're not the **only one** who knows how to make things look like an electrical fire," Cheryl looked at Krieger.

"I must admit Cheryl was quite knowledgeable about this topic," Ray sighed.

"Did you find anything else about the guy?" Cyril asked.

"He has two angry ex-wives and few pissed off girlfriends and bookies," Pam said. "According to his answering machine. He's got an uncle somewhere in Nebraska but other than that nobody who would really miss him."

"Except maybe people who he owes money too," Lana said. "Like his bank which also called and left a rather nasty message."

"When a bank threatens to repossess your teeth that is **not good** ," Pam shook her head.

"There were a **lot** of nasty messages on that answering machine," Ray said. "Stonefield was **not** a popular man."

"Did you get anything?" Cyril asked.

"Fifty-two dollars and sixty-seven cents," Ray put down the briefcase and opened it up. "Some unused paper pads. Couple of pens. Pencils. Half a book of stamps…"

"We figured **you'd** appreciate that," Cheryl said to Cyril.

"I do," Cyril said.

"We got this briefcase which looks nice," Ray said as he took some items out. "Some blank envelopes. A couple of magazines. A contact list…"

"But since half of them are probably people he owed money to," Pam spoke up. "Don't get your hopes up."

"What about his computer?" Cyril asked.

"That hunk a junk was only a few weeks younger than Ms. Archer," Pam snorted.

"What do you think I used to start the electrical fire with?" Cheryl asked. "The whole lithium battery exploding thing is so easy to fake if you have the right acid."

"But we did get all his files," Lana sighed. "Spoiler alert, most of them are porn."

"So, we **did** get something valuable," Pam grinned.

"And you've said before there are like twenty-something other detective agencies in LA," Cheryl added. "There's one less now."

"We just knocked out some competition," Pam nodded. "Okay so the guy was doing even worse than we were but still competition."

"If anybody asks they'll probably think that Stonefield just went on the lam to ditch his creditors," Krieger shrugged.

"What do we do with the body **now**?" Cyril asked.

"Well," Krieger took out a medical box. "He did have lovely eyes. And a relatively decent heart. His liver and kidneys…Not so much. Not worth half as much as his spleen. And spleens can go for pretty cheap nowadays."

"Oh, dear sweet Jesus," Ray winced.

"Hey I can get a pretty good price for these organs on the black market," Krieger said. "And as for the rest of him," He picked up a medium size blue box. "I have a plan."

"You're going to make him a doorstop?" Cheryl asked.

"No!" Krieger said. "We bury him out in the desert near some kind of landmark where we can find him. Then if someone hires us to look for him, we'll know where to find him!"

"Damn Krieger!" Pam whistled. "That's pretty well thought out for you!"

"And best of all," Krieger said. "We can say we heard through the grapevine that one of his mob creditors took him out and sold his organs. I left his teeth so he could be identified."

"So, your plan in its **entirety** …" Ray began. "Is to wait until someone wants to **hire us** to find Stonefield?"

"And after waiting a few days tell the client and the cops you found him," Pam added. "Get paid for finding the guy that we buried in the **first place**?"

"Yup," Krieger said. "We'll just blame it on some mob guy called Big Mike that wanted him dead."

"Which Big Mike?" Pam asked. "There's like at least six Big Mikes in California alone connected to organized crime!"

"Exactly," Krieger grinned.

Ray paused. "That is pretty clever."

"And a good way to make some money," Pam nodded.

"What if they do like a CSI type thing?" Cheryl asked.

"I was very thorough," Krieger shrugged. "You think this is the **first body** I've had to dispose of?"

"I think that number is in the triple digits by now," Cyril groaned.

"Serial killers have lower numbers," Ray agreed.

"I've told you before I'm **not** a **serial killer**!" Krieger snapped. "I mean I didn't kill this guy! Technically!"

"You made the toaster that shoved him down the stairs!" Pam pointed out.

"But I didn't teach him to **murder people**!" Krieger protested. "He figured that out on his own."

"We now have a killer toaster," Ray groaned. "Good to know."

Cyril sighed. "I'm starting to think we're not good people."

"Really?" Pam looked at Cyril. "What was your first damn clue? The arsons? The assassinations? The _cocaine cartel_?"

"The **killer toaster**?" Lana added.

"The fact that this isn't even the **first** god damn dismembered body we had to get rid of?" Ray asked.

"Not even the first one **this year** ," Krieger said.

"Which means I can't believe I'm about to suggest this," Ray sighed. "We should do at least one thing."

"What?" Lana asked.

Later that night in the desert…

" _Amazing grace!"_ Pam and Cheryl sang as they stood out in the desert. _"How sweet the sound! That saved a wretch like meeeeeeee!"_

"Will you two harpies **shut up?"** Cyril shouted. The gang was out in the desert at night standing in front of Krieger's van. The headlights were on so they could see where they had buried what was left of the private detective. "Someone could hear us!"

"Cyril," Lana looked at him. "We are in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night about fifty miles away from any roads. Not even the **coyotes** know where we are or care about it!"

"But there's a very nice rock formation over there," Krieger pointed. "We should be able to remember this spot. Forty paces from that formation."

"This isn't a buried treasure Krieger!" Ray snapped. He was wearing his minister outfit. "Now y'all settle down. We're gonna do this right."

"We are so not good people," Cyril moaned.

"We're giving the guy a funeral!" Cheryl snapped. "Even though he was the one that was trespassing against **us**!"

"That's what it says to do in the Bible," Ray said.

"Is **that** what it means when it says to forgive people who trespass against us?" Pam asked. "Giving them a funeral after killing them? Huh, I never would have thought of that."

"I guess that's something you learn in Minister School," Cheryl shrugged.

"Can we please, just get **on** with this?" Lana groaned.

"Let us bow our heads and pray," Ray instructed. They all bowed their heads. "Dear Lord, please accept Mr. John Stonefield into your heavenly kingdom. Even though technically he was committing a sin by breaking into our office and trying to destroy us. Just saying, we were just defending ourselves."

"Technically it was Piggly, Babou and Milton who did that," Krieger spoke up.

"And the mail robot," Pam added. "And Schnuckiputzi!"

"Hush!" Ray snapped. "Lord, I know this ain't exactly how you want your dead to be buried. But considering what we had to work with this is the best we could get. And as for the deceased…Odds are he was probably an asshole. But give the guy a break."

"I am paying a babysitter almost a hundred dollars," Lana groaned. "So I can attend a funeral in the desert for a guy our agency is responsible for killing. There has got to be a **better way** to make a living."

"Lord," Ray finished. "I know our agency is far from perfect. Very far. Light years actually. But this is the best we can do. We're trying Lord. And again, he trespassed against **us!** Just saying."

"There's got to be a **better way** to make a living," Lana groaned. "There just **has** to be."

"In conclusion Lord," Ray said. "We're trying to do the right thing. But we just don't want to go to jail. Again, we didn't ask this guy to break into our office. Or plan on killing him. Just saying. Amen!"

"Well that was fun," Krieger said. "Who's up for chicken and waffles?"

"I could eat," Pam nodded.

"Me too," Ray agreed.

"Why not?" Lana groaned as they started to get into the van. "I still have a couple hours left on the clock."

"Sorry our toaster killed you," Cheryl said to the grave before they left.

"We are so going to Hell," Cyril moaned. "Oh wait, I'm **already there**!"


End file.
